


On Insanity

by TrulyCertain



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen, Insanity Round, M/M, Many pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyCertain/pseuds/TrulyCertain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles written for the Mass Effect Community on LiveJournal's Insanity Round. A little bit of... well, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Power bars and energy drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ME1.

Every time he feels like his amp's about to fry him and his skin feels too tight for his skull, the light blinding him in the med bay, he finds a KroganBoost! bottle and something hideous but calorie-rich in bar form pressed into his hands. A nod, a hint of a small, hurried smile - then Shepard's gone, and Kaidan's left standing there, slightly perplexed.

After. _Every_. Fight.

That's the thing about Shepard; the man's so damn _conscientious_. It's like he single-handedly wants to save every member of this crew from the universe.

Kaidan pretends not to notice the protein paste that mysteriously appears in the mess hall, knowing that Tali goes down for breakfast every morning. Or the way that the good doctor received a bottle of excellent, expensive as hell brandy after she'd been serving on the Normandy a year.

Kaidan doesn't think Anderson's noticed yet; or maybe he has, and he's playing it cool.

He spreads another inch of the pain gel round his gums, praying it'll actually touch the sides of the migraine this time - even though it never does, he can hope, right? He lays it on the work surface at his side, looking up at footsteps, and before he has time to react, there's a KroganBoost! and a bar, a nod.

He finally catches himself just as Shepard's turning to leave. "Sir..."

Shepard turns, visibly surprised.

"Thanks."

The smile is larger this time, something conscious and truly friendly. "Not a problem, Alenko."

And Kaidan thinks that maybe he ought to talk to his C.O. more.


	2. Rank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley isn't the only one with a little poetry at her command. Post-Virmire.

There's a long silence as Shepard stares into the glass of whisky, eyes darker blue under the bar lights, before he announces, with a simplicity and finality that surprises Kaidan, "Shit."

Kaidan looks at him, frowning. "John?"

"She was meant to _survive_ , Kaidan," Shepard says, voice low and rough like he's been gargling sandpaper. "We were meant to go in there, sort it out, leave with her. And she died under my command. I had to send her family her tags. You know the last time that happened? _Akuze_."

And Kaidan's thinking about it, with that low, lead balloon feeling in his stomach because _he_ was the one who made it out of there, and he opens his mouth to offer some kind of comfort, because damn, _he_ misses her too...

Until he hears it, quiet and raw.

" _Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone_." John picks up his glass, swills the amber liquid around in his glass and stares into it, mouth twisted. " _Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos_." He swallows. " _And with muffled drum, bring out the coffin..._ "

Kaidan watches him, his own eyes hollow and exhausted, and, in the semi-darkness of the bar, he thinks.

Shepard was always meant to be his C.O. He never expected him to be his _friend_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stop All The Clocks/Funeral Blues" is quoted from W.H. Auden.


	3. Buzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In ME2. M!Shep/Morinth.

When Shepard finally comes to her, she tries to pretend she's not surprised. "I thought so," she bluffs, voice smooth as she walks to him, hips swaying. "Are you here for something, Commander?"  
  
A bead of sweat stands out on his forehead, and, hard as he tries to hide it, his hands are shaking. He's nervous, she realises, and, for the first time since that night on Omega, she genuinely wonders...  
  
"Morinth," he begins, then shuts his mouth again, as if he can't phrase whatever he's trying to say properly. He tries again, his throat obviously dry. "I know you'll want off the ship." _That's_ easy enough to see. She has done what she came here for, the mission _wasn't_ a suicide mission, and now... new pastures. New lives, new names. More and more buzzes to find, needs to fill. "But first... I need a favour. One more." He meets her eye, and she realises, suddenly, that his pupils are dilated.   
  
It sends a thrill through her, and she smiles wolfishly, trailing a finger over his shoulder and stepping around him. "Whatever you need, Commander." She murmurs in his ear, "You think I'd let _you_ die? No, you're too much _fun._ I've seen you trying to resist it, the buzz of the danger.."  
  
"No," he says surprisingly firmly, and turns to face her. Though there's lust in his eyes, there's no light, and he almost seems... only half-aware, as if he's watching this all from a distance. "Don't try _that_ on me. I came here... for an _end._ The Reapers are still out there, but I'm just so... I'm so _tired._ " And his hand reaches out now, in a similar way, to caress her neck, a small half-smile blooming on his face. "And I'm tired of resisting. I wanted to die... happy. In a sense."  
  
Her smile widens. What a conquest - the great Commander Shepard, saviour of the galaxy! What experiences, what visions in his mind before she devours it...  
  
"Your wish is my command," she says, voice husky, and lowers her head to his.  
  
He responds equally quickly, pulling her to him, and, when their lips finally meet, lets out a short laugh against her mouth.  
  
"What?" she asks, smiling too now.  
  
He doesn't pull back as he says, "You think I chose you for your _biotics,_ Ardat-Yakshi?"


	4. "Don't you dare judge me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That whole little sequence with Shepard breaking down about Thessia but barely getting a word in edgeways about Earth seemed a little odd to me; that and the whole idea of Shepard cracking up produced this.
> 
> Post-Thessia, FemShep.

Shepard's glaring at him, nostrils flared and eyes hard, and Garrus is silent. "Don't you _dare._ "  
  
Liara is leaning against the wall, wiping the blood from her mouth; it shines dark and blue on her hand under the ship's sterile light, and she stares at it as though she can't believe it's there. Maybe because she can't - her tenure as the Shadow Broker hasn't changed her feelings for Shepard, a fact that's plain for all on the Normandy to see.  
  
Garrus stands, arms folded, mandibles flickering in what's the turian equivalent of a raised eyebrow. "Interesting to see your idea of military discipline, Shepard."  
  
She watches him as though she might try to hit him too, breathing heavily, the air charged, then looks down at her knuckles, slowly wiping the smudge of blue off them on the hip of her trousers. "She's not the only one who's lost a home in this war."  
  
 _Thessia._ Garrus has been watching Liara weep, babble on about things she couldn't have done until she was hoarse, and Shepard becoming more and more unresponsive, knuckles white.  
  
Until... _this._  
  
Liara watches the commander like a hunted animal, eyes wide. "I am...sorry, Shepard." Then she turns, walking off slightly faster than necessary.  
  
"You're right, she's not the only one," Garrus tells Shepard, not relaxing. "But neither are you." He sees a flash of hurt in her eyes, but ignores it, and, the flames on Palaven fresh in his mind, walks to catch up with Liara. He doesn't look back, but he doesn't hear anything behind him, and he can _feel_ Shepard watching him.


	5. Advertisement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early days of ME2 M!Shep/Tali to ME3.

Tali's used to the stares on the Citadel, and the mutters - "A human and a quarian? Really? Is that even _possible_...?" - when she's there with John. No matter how self-conscious she is about it, how much she tries to gently sort of...suggest that her hand should be over there, away from his, because they're, well, in public, he just shakes his head, smiles a little sadly.

His hand releases its link with hers, and she misses the warmth slightly, but breathes out...then his hand comes to rest on her shoulder, with a quiet, "This OK?"

All she has to say is "no", but most of this system knows about them anyway, and, well... "It's OK," she says, because it is, somehow, and she nods.

•

When the first quarian approaches her when she's visiting the Fleet - Kash, fresh from a pilgrimage - and asks for a quiet word, he thanks her.

She's surprised. "Why are you...?"

Kash'Vila's voice is smiling as he draws a small photo from his belt, and Tali's surprised to see that it's of him with his arm around a young, laughing human woman, the London eye in the background. "For showing me," he says, simply.

She remembers the Citadel, and she smiles.


	6. Love like that leaves a mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M!Shep, Anderson, Ashley, and paternal-ish stuff.

David watches Shepard run into battle, head bowed, plated shoulders slumped, with a yell of fury...  
  
(First human Spectre. N7 by 27. Closest thing he's ever had to a kid of his own.)  
  
...And prays, silently, to a God he knows doesn't exist.  
  
"...Flank 'em and take out the Banshees," Coats finishes, next to his ear, and he looks at the Major in slightly embarrassed surprise.  
  
He cocks his head, as if he's actually considering words he hasn't even heard.  
  


•

  
Ashley doesn't remember Anderson looking so _old_ last time she saw him. She hasn't been in the vid-comm meetings, but when she saw him on Earth, he looked younger than he had in months. Freer.  
  
Now, watching Shepard run headfirst into flames...  
  
He's not even looking at Coats, eyes fixed on the Commander. She knows from experience he'll shake it off, and none of the men will have noticed. It's only there if you look for it.  
  
She hears heavy footsteps behind her, and turns. She isn't the only one who's spotted it. "Love like that..." James says, nodding to the scene, his eyes unusually sombre, "...It leaves a mark, y'know? Just can't shake it off."  
  
Her own eyes drifting back to Shepard, she silently agrees.


	7. Skip to the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ME1. A little FemShep/Joker if you squint.

"Talky..." Shepard yawns and jabs the fast-forward button. "Talky..."   
  
Joker smirks, shaking his head. "There's kinda... not much film left, y'know."  
  
She glares at him. "I was _there._ I said most of it. Except for - " She looks at the screen in horror. "Since when am I into asari?"  
  
He has trouble keeping a laugh in. He'd heard about the famous "French kissing Liara" scene in _Citadel: The Newest Hope_ , but hadn't quite dared to hope...  
  
"Ah." She presses play, frowning. And frowning some more. "Am I... riding Sovereign?"  
  
He nods, his own eyes slightly wide. "Uh-huh." He looks down at his omni-tool, checking the extranet reviews. "'Riding Sovereign into battle like a white knight.'" He raises his eyebrows.  
  
She throws down the remote, standing - crying, "This is krogan piss! All of it!" - and storms out, muttering.


	8. Am I missing something?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ME1, Virmire. My first try at anything even vaguely Shenko. F!Shep/Kaidan.

  
And she remembers the soldier right by her side, the one who cleaned her rifles when he _thought_ she was asleep on her feet.

  
Or who hastily stitched her up on the field, teeth gritted, dark eyes narrowed, muttering things about the shot or the beam or the beacon or _whatever it was this time_ and how it shouldn't have got past him, it was _his_ fault...

  
She remembers when they hefted Jenkins' body onto the Normandy together, the two of them still exhausted and blood-stained from the fight at Eden Prime, because he deserved _more_. Than what, she couldn't quite place, but it seemed to matter at the time. Kaidan had looked at her like he was seeing someone else, someone much better and much purer than she has ever been.

  
Of course, he'd called her "ma'am" then, tripping over any kind of informality, unable to meet her eye.

  
She remembers a slip of the tongue back on the Citadel.

  
She swallows with a dry throat, something beginning to dawn on her at _exactly the wrong time._

  
All are silent over the comm link, waiting for her answer. She looks back, at the AA towers where the desperate are dying, where a promising young soldier has a career and a life ahead of her; at the breeding grounds where Alenko is sitting on a bomb, saying that he's _prepared_ for this...

  
And makes her choice.

 


	9. A man must have a code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically my headcanon for the way my Shepard thinks. Earthborn, Paragon M!Shep.

It's in his head every time he fires a gun, telling him never to _enjoy this_ , remembering when he did. Freckled faces grinning at him, blood on the streets, just one more high...  
  
It's in his head with every one he can't save; every tear-stained face and every trail of blood he leaves behind him; every night spent staring at the ceiling and wondering if he has any more to give.  
  
It's what makes him fight, and what makes him grieve.  
  
He knows one man can't save the world, but he's damn well going to _try_.


	10. Tell yourself again these are not truly your friends

There's something almost _innocent_ in the way it looks at her, flaps flaring around the...  
  
 _Optical sensors_ , Shaela'Taar tells herself. It is _not_ an eye.  
  
Platform 34715 watches her as she works; she hums in a breath, the pliers shaking in her hands as she works at the delicate cables. One wrong twist, a cut here, and its arm loses function. They have to start all over again, re-programming, welding...  
  
There is an almost-silence; she hears the clicks and whirrs of a thousand tiny programs - minds - working, and the sound is almost reassuring. The sound of an assistant, ready to lend aid.  
  
A click, louder than the others, and the platform speaks from above her. **"Creator Shaela'Taar..."**

A pause, almost a hesitation, but the machines don't _hesitate;_ no impairment of their function can be allowed.

 **"Why is this platform here?"**  
  
She shakes her head at its unusual lack of obvious information. "Repairs, 3-4." Her nickname, shorter than its full serial number. "Repairs. Surely you deduced from the environment - ?"  
  
Another flare of its eye-flaps. **"Question phrasing suspected incorrect. Why was this platform built?"**  
  
She shakes her head. "3-4, you're here to plant..."  
  
 **"What is my true function, Creator Shaela'Tarr?"**  
  
The question is almost childlike in its simplicity, but something pops behind her eyes, the shock settling in.  
  
Exactly. A child, asking for purpose, for meaning. As if it has _thought_ , truly _thought_ , about this.   
  
Like them.  
  
 _It can't be..._  
  
She drops the pliers, standing - it follows her movement - and runs as fast as her feet can carry her.


	11. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earthborn M!Shep origin. Shepard/O.C.
> 
> The longest chapter in here, I think, and the only non-Insanity Round thing here. This is basically my headcanon origin story, and was written for the Girl Saves Boy Ficathon 2011. It'll also be the only piece with an O.C., Emmie. Previously posted on FF.net (and yes, this is the same Shepard used for my Shep/Tali work over there).

They're too cheap to afford datapads here, so it's a tattered, yellowing book he lowers to survey the group who have entered the room; with the noise of the other kids, he's been reading the same paragraph five times anyway.

Old suits, long out of the current fashion. Grave expressions, but their eyes are flickering round the room, as if to take in every detail - as if something's about to attack them.

"We miss our brother more every day," one of them says to Lynette, sighing. "We figured we owed it to him."

Another looks around, stopping when he sees him. He begins to approach, saying to the others over his shoulder, "Yeah, that's him. Spitting image of his father."

His father? So, these are his uncles. Shouldn't he have heard of them before?

Finally reaching him, the stranger ruffles his hair; he grits his teeth, partly because he hates the action and partly because of what he catches on the man's breath - cigarette smoke, things he doesn't have a name for, and _sewers_. He almost misses the words muttered into his ear as the man leans over him. "Taken a long time to find you, kid. Sit up and shut up."

He nods, his mind blank except for the all-consuming wish that the guy get away from him; he, all of them, make him uneasy.

He pretends not to see the credit chit exchanged, pretends not to be unsettled by the cheesy grin they all simultaneously give Lynette as she says, "Shouldn't have any trouble with him. John's a good kid. Maybe a little serious sometimes, but... a good kid. We'll miss him." She smiles, reading the chit; he's known they were here to take him away for a few minutes, but it doesn't really register until he's being packed out of the door with the meagre possessions he has, trying to ignore the forceful hand on his back.

He takes one last look at the home before he turns to them, raising his eyebrows. "'Uncles'?"

One of them, somewhere near the back, mutters, "Kid's smarter than he looks."

Why have none of them used his _name_ yet?

The tall, lanky guy at the front grins. "We're... some _friends_ of your father's. He kept you pretty well-hidden, I've gotta say, but we're here now." He names each of his cohorts and then says, "I'm Sel, by the way. Welcome to your new life."

When they arrive at the empty, broken-down building, it takes him a moment to notice the age of some of the people leaning against the walls. That's when it hits him: he's just one more stray.

One more stray in the Reds.

* * *

He gets used to it, eventually. The dirt on the walls is the same, at least, as are the glares he receives from the some of them.

They never call him by his name; he's the youngest, so it's always simply "kid".

He's overheard the conversations - well, some of them - about how he's too young to do "the heavy stuff", so it's always the small things, enough to get them a few credits, but never to attract the law: mainly shoplifting, tagging walls - sometimes, on the better days, begging. He at least feels a little honest, doing that - hell, it's not like he doesn't need the money.

* * *

He hears the conversation a few months after he was "picked up", while packing away some of the gear; it's hushed, but not quite hushed _enough._

"I don't think he's got his skills - worst thief I've ever seen. And try and give him any _interesting_ jobs, he just shuts down, or tries to laugh it off. Don't know why we're spending credits on him." The man who he now knows to be Marv exhales a puff of cigarette smoke, as if discussing someone's life is everyday, _boring_.

He swallows. Being kicked out of the Reds means death. Simple as.

"Look, give the kid a chance." Sel's voice. "He's strong and he's pig-headed. He's got that of his father in him. He'll grow up right, if we let him."

Marv backs down, because you _never_ argue with Sel, and his life is assured for just a little while longer.

* * *

Emmie comes a couple of years later - by now, he's tall enough to look Sel in the eye ( _taller_ , now he thinks about it), but they still call him "kid", knowing that he hates it. It's the same day they start him running.

He sneaks a glance: ebony skin, hair tied simply back, ragged clothes. About his age, maybe a little older. She saunters in like she owns their little hovel, giving everyone in the place a wide, slightly toothy smile, and the glance turns into an involuntary stare.

The first person she walks up to in the room is him, and her grin turns slightly wider as she leans on the wall next to him; he doesn't have to look up much from the crate he's sitting on, and he realises that she's surprisingly short. "John, right?"

Well, it's hardly like _she_ could call him "kid" - still, it's been a long time since anyone used his name, and he likes it. He nods, frowning, and she holds out a hand. He half-wonders whether it would be _possible_ for such a small girl to pull him up, then realises what she's doing and shakes it, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Emmie," she announces, as he stands. "I'm here for the runnin' too."

He nods again, and starts to walk to Sel; it takes a couple of minutes before he sees she's trailing behind him, unsure of where to go. "C'mon. He's this way."

"So he finally speaks!" She laughs - it has a good sound to it - then catches up with him, not even bothering to run. "How long you been with the Reds?"

He shrugs. "Three years. Give or take."

"Two hours. Give or take."

He knows perfectly well what's in the packets they're given; he also knows he wouldn't touch a drop of it - not that he hasn't had it offered. He's screwed-up _enough_ without drugs, and every time he sees the shaking kids, thinner than the others, who can't get their fix, he knows he's right.

She just raises her eyebrows, turning the packet over, shrugs, and tucks it into her belt with a sigh. "It's somethin'."

* * *

He doesn't like talking about what they're carrying openly - almost like, if he pretends hard enough, he can convince himself he's _not_ carrying it - but, as they're threading their way through the back streets, she frowns. "What _is_ this stuff?"

He shrugs, the old walls coming back up at such an unpleasant subject. "Fetches thousands of creds just for _this."_ He looks at the tiny pack. "Comes from higher up. That's all I know."

"Why _kids?"_

That's what they _are,_ he abruptly realises, looking at her wide, almost innocent eyes and thinking of his age when he was "found". _Kids._ "They're less harsh on us; figure we're just high-schoolers messing around. Often we get off with a warning, but I've heard of some that got busted. Short sentence. 'Lenience for age'."

She nods, the ever-present smile having left her face a while ago, and is silent for the rest of the journey.

* * *

They give the money to Sel, and, sitting in what's become his corner, as he looks dubiously at what he's been given to eat - shit, is it _grey?_ \- he hears familiar footsteps, and looks up to see Emmie sitting next to him. "Hey, loner."

"Uh... hey." He's concentrating more on getting whatever nutrition he can from... _this._

"Just thought you ought to know... Sel's puttin' us on more jobs together."

He nods, unsure of what to say to that. "Right."

* * *

He's surprised by her "talent" - for someone so loud, who usually makes no effort to hide her footsteps, she's the best thief he's ever _seen._ Her small frame is usually to be seen wriggling through a window somewhere, and even _he_ rarely notices when she swipes things from stores and traders.

* * *

She passes him the bar of - is that _chocolate?_ He doesn't think he's seen it for years; it's a precious commodity, near impossible to find on the streets - while they're on a job, and he has to think back to work out where she could have taken it from. When he asks, she shakes her head, gives him another of her infectious grins. "Bought it fair an' square."

He stares at her, then at it, then at her again. "Sure you don't want this?"

She shakes her head again ("Your cut for the job, partner"), but he stops and gives her half, even with her loud protests echoing down the street. "No problem. Good stuff's hard to find round here."

It's then that he finally returns her smile, and he realises that it wasn't the chocolate he was talking about.

* * *

When he hits fifteen, the running stops, and Curt shoves the gun into his hand; he'd expected something used to cause such harm to feel cold, but it's warm from another's hands, almost comfortable in his grip - the fact is both pleasing and horrifying.

He swallows, mouth dry, and looks to Emmie - she's wearing the same expression as she did when she truly found out what the running was, her mouth tight, and her eyes never leave the weapon; she doesn't look at _him_ once.

He wonders why there doesn't seem to be any surprise when he manages not to kill anyone, replacing the cartridge without shooting himself in the foot - years of cleaning up others' guns does that, he guesses.

It's only late at night, when he can't sleep, that he overhears Sel's voice once again, this conversation similar yet very different to the one he heard so many years ago: "He's inherited _some_ of his father's talents, at least."

Not for the first time, he wonders who his father was, then decides it's probably better not to know; there's a rustle from a few feet away, and Emmie turns over on thin, moth-eaten blankets and looks him in the eye, her gaze and her mouth saying nothing, but he has to look away.

* * *

Soon after that, they stop calling him "kid", and the gun stops feeling quite so heavy in his hands.

* * *

Emmie glares at him whenever she sees him with it, even if it isn't out; just knowing it's there is enough, and she mutters, "Dunno why you take that thing wi' you."

"Self-defence," he answers simply, ignoring the murmur of disquiet in the back of his mind at her expression.

* * *

They're leaning against a wall, in one of the scummier back streets, when they see the promo on the side of a building.

His eyes flicker to it idly, and he mutters, "Alliance. Guess it'd just be one more gun to hold."

She gives him yet another stormy look, then relents, saying, "Might give you a chance to get off this rock."

He shrugs, turning her words over in his mind, and then Sel calls them; they run to find him, and he pretends to forget the advert.

* * *

He stops one day, takes a look at the signs at the nearest recruitment point; there's travel, sure (there's a sign indicating that recruits are taken to the base on the Citadel, that station where the _rich_ and the aliens live), and the thought of fighting _for_ something, not just to stay alive a little longer... He looks around, sees one of the soldier watching him, and moves away quickly, shaking his head. He's being an idiot - the Reds need him.

* * *

He's a couple of days away from his eighteenth birthday - Emmie's already hit it, and keeps making jibes about being an adult; she says it's one of the few things she still remembers from before the Reds - when he's given the job.

He frowns at Sel, noticing the now entirely grey hair and the new wrinkles on the man's face. "You want me to... what's the guy done?"

Sel shakes his head. "Nothin' you need to know about. Spread the word a little too far maybe, got us too famous with the wrong people." He gives him a solemn look. "You know what to do. This is how we deal with it."

He nods, trying to ignore the bile that rises at the back of his throat - the thought of actually _using_ this thing on someone... he's shot many walls, but _this?_ This is different.

* * *

Her expression is one of revulsion when he tells her just what the job is. "You're not gonna _do_ it, are you?"

He shrugs, but he can't stand to meet her eye. "Better than getting thrown out of the Reds, I guess." It means he's alive for one more day, and that's all he can ask for.

" _No._ You're not." She looks at him, her eyes sad. "Sorry, John."

"Wha - ?" He feels his head hit the wall, and then the world goes black.

* * *

She is standing over him when he wakes, her expression stern. " _Go._ You're gettin' out of here."

He frowns, and then spots the gun - his gun - in her belt. "What're you _doing?_ "

She shakes her head. "You're too young for this, haven' got blood on your hands. Me, I've got too much."

He stumbles to his feet, rubbing his head. Frustration rises in him at her cryptic answer, and he asks her, simply, " _Why?_ Why _this?"_

"You need to _move._ Just, _go,_ get outta here. You know what the Reds do to chickens." She sighs, looking down at the gun, still strapped to her hip, then back to him. "Simple truth is, I'm savin' you," she replies, placing a palm beneath his chin, "because there's somethin' in you still worth saving. Don't matter what they said about your papa, you were never born to be a Red."

_Go?_ Where _to?_ Her words from before ring in his head - _"Might give you a chance to get off this rock."_ "I... The Alliance," he decides. "Ship leaves today."

She gives him a smile, but her eyes are sad. "Good luck, Johnnie-boy."

Her lips are on his before he has time to register what's happening, and he thinks he tastes chocolate, then she's pushing him forward, looking over her shoulder. "I'll tell them. Now _run."_

He starts to say something, ask why she never told him, but has no idea _what_ to say. Instead, he nods and runs. He looks back once, and, when he does, she is still watching him, a small smile on her face.

* * *

He sees the looks some of the other recruits give him, and ignores them - instead, he looks out of the window, watching Earth disappear beneath him. She's down there, somewhere.

When they reach the atmosphere, he shuts his eyes and exhales, gradually becoming aware of something in his pocket. He reaches down to get it, and forgets to breathe for a moment when he sees it, turning it over in his fingers. When did she - ? When he was unconscious, he guesses.

No note of explanation, no weapon. Just six carefully wrapped squares of chocolate.


	12. Two prompts, one stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filled two prompts at once with this - still not sure I was meant to do that, but anyway...
> 
> Gen, I'd say, though F!Shep/Kaidan if you squint, I guess (she calls him "Kaid")?
> 
> Theory: Omni-tools are solid light projected from a chip at the wrist. Not canon, but serviceable.

**I: Mako**

When she eventually manages to turn over the flip-proof, certified all-terrain vehicle, it's on a small planet somewhere in the Armstrong Nebula.

Always  _knew_  she couldn't drive the fucking thing.

When she wakes, it's to too-bright light and a throbbing head, and she groans, spitting out red hair. The Mako's still upside-down, and she looks around her, panicking for Kaidan and Garrus, before realising that  _they aren't with her_...

Must have got out and left her there. Bastards. Wouldn't have thought either of them had it in them.

She grunts at a slight, but not unbearable, pain in her shoulder as she struggles to slide out of the seat, touch her palm to the door panel; there's a  _beep_ , hiss and click, then the door opens. She's about to attempt the arduous climb out of the... well,  _tank_ , when an armoured hand is extended past the open door.

Ah. Kaidan. She thought so.

She takes it gratefully, heaving herself up to her feet, and looks up to see...

Not Kaidan. Oh.

Buzz-cut, stubble, concerned eyes. "You good?" he asks, watching her as though for breakages. "Hurt at all?"

She nods, breathing still slightly heavy, and frowns at him, or, more specifically, what he's wearing. _Weird..._

She shrugs it off, raising a hand to her forehead. Must be another graduate of the program. "Yeah," she says, before quickly elucidating, "I am. Good, I mean. Think I bruised my shoulder."

He nods, gives her a crooked half-smile that reminds her of her own. "Worse could've happened." She raises her eyebrows as he sighs, slumping to the ground and sitting on the sand - the motion takes a conspicuously long time due to the armour's inflexibility, and God, she knows  _that_  feeling. After a moment of debating with herself, she joins him. They sit beside each other, eyes on the overturned Mako, and there's a long silence before he asks, "You got a team with you?"

She nods, then pauses. "Yeah. No. I dunno. Two guys. Kaid's pissed off and left me. Kinda surprised at that."

He frowns at her. "Kaid as in Kaidan?"

She nods. "Uh-uh."

He raises his eyes to the sky, seeming to consider it. "Must be a common name." He holds out his hand once again, this time differently. "John."

She shakes it, smiling and noting with satisfaction his surprise at the firmness of her grip. "Jane." It's a brisk, solid shake, an exchange of pleasantries between soldiers, and familiar to her as her own name. Familiar is good, after all the shit with Saren and so on. She likes this guy.

He lets go and switches on his omni-tool. "I'll get my pilot on the comm-link, see if we can't get you back to familiar territory."

She smiles at him, grateful, and asks with interest, "What ship you serving on?"

He unconsciously looks up, as if he wants to spot it. "Oh. Cruiser. Used to be my captain's - he was a good guy." His eyes are far away for a moment, and something begins to tug at her memory, nagging her. She can't quite put her finger on it... "The _Nor_  - "

+

**II: Omni-tool**

She wakes to a throbbing head and two very concerned soldiers peering down at her.  
  
"Next time," Garrus says firmly, " _I_  drive."  
  
 _Knew_  they wouldn't abandon her.  
  
Chakwas joins them, one hand still clutching a datapad, and sighs. "A concussion, Commander. Nothing that will keep you off your feet for long."  
  
She starts to sit up, Kaid offering her a hand, and begins, "What about John?"  
  
They frown at her. "Who?" they ask, almost in unison.  
  
"The guy that brought me here," she explains, but they keep frowning.  
  
" _We_  brought you here," Kaid says. "You were passed out in the Mako when we found you."  
  
She rubs her head with gritted teeth, but things begin to make sense now. All a hallucination. The great Commander Shepard is cracking up. She laughs, shakes her head at her own stupidity. "Sure. Yeah. Sorry, guys." Her head is a strange place.  
  
"You dropped your omni-tool?" Kaidan asks, and her hand strays to her wrist. The chip is still intact. She shakes her head.  
  
"Not mine," Garrus chips in from the corner, and Kaidan agrees, "Not mine either. An extra?"  
  
She shrugs, taking the chip from it and turning it over in her fingers. "Dunno. Maybe someone else left it in the Mako."  
  
He shakes his head. "It was  _outside_  it, Commander."  
  


+

 

She turns it on later, in the deserted med bay, and it flickers on with a small welcome message. She touches a finger to it, searching for the user profile so she can return it, and stops as a familiar picture comes to the screen. She frowns.  _John._  She touches it again, agreeing to check over the user preferences and account info, moves to the user info logs, and her eyes widen.

 _This tool activated: 30-5-78._  Her N7 graduation.  _What?_

_UserID: John Shepard._

_NetworkID: ShepMeister54._

_LocationKey: NormSR1._


	13. Good looks and charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John introduces Kaidan to RPGs, and is The Nerd Of The Citadel - with some turian bromance thrown in. M!Shep/Kaidan.

Oh, his CO has them in spades. Hell, next John - Shepard, he corrects himself hastily, that's all he'll use to the guy's face - is gonna start rescuing kittens from trees and holding babies for photoshoots.   
  
The babies part makes Kaidan wonder if Shepard has any family off this ship, if he has someone to come back to after all this is over. It makes him wonder why he's wondering.  
  
 _The Hero of The Citadel._  Sounds like something out of those old  _DragoonStar_  games. He remembers some of the kids at Jump Zero talking about them (levels and trolls and levels and dungeons and... did he mention trolls?), about the few memories they had of home. Before the talking stopped and the hopelessness started.   
  
Late one night, with a combination of a splitting migraine and too much coffee, he comes down to find Jo...  _Shepard_  in the mess hall, frowning at his omni-tool, pressing buttons and typing things with a faint air of desperation. Kaidan grabs an inevitably hideous mug of coffee -  _more_  coffee is probably a bad idea right now, but hey - from the dispenser, sitting opposite the man and sneaking a glance at his omni-tool.  
  
Wow. He's trying to hack his omni-tool to play  _DragoonStar_ . The code scrolls past at a ridiculous rate on Shepard's arm, and the commander grits his teeth, eyes flickering and fingers flying, wading through it with the air of a despairing, drowning programmer.   
  
Knowing he's been busted, Shepard looks up, blue eyes meeting his, and grins, sheepish and crooked, clearing his throat; it's a habit of his when he's embarrassed, Kaidan's noticed, and berated himself for noticing. "The great Commander Shepard," John says, quietly, a trace of colour in his cheeks, "Nerd of The Citadel."  
  
Charm? Hmm, maybe, in his own way.  
  
Kaidan gives a small smile before drinking his coffee, wincing at the taste. Then he looks back to John, and says, "Never played it. Heard about it, but..."  
  
John's eyes widen. "Never?"  
  
"Never."  
  
John shifts slightly, and Kaidan understands its meaning immediately; after a very small, invisible debate with himself, he takes the seat next to John, pulling the mug to the other side of the table, and leans to take a look at the omni-tool.  
  
"Here..." John breathes, eyes still taking in the code; he touches his fingers to it, removes a segment. "Great. This should do it..." He touches his hand to the tool, removing it and placing it on the table with a flourish, exhaling. A projection rises from the tool in front of them, orchestral music blaring tinnily from the omni-tool's tiny speakers.  _DragoonStar,_  large letters read in a pointed, slightly vicious typeface.  
  
He leans on his elbow and looks to Kaidan, eyes bright, smile almost daring him. "Wanna try?"  
  
Kaidan hesitates before asking,  _faux_ -seriously, "You think I'm ready for this, commander?" His mouth twitches.  
  
John laughs, the sound low and pleasant, and reclines in his seat, eyes on the game, shoulder brushing Kaidan's; Kaidan swallows, pretends he hasn't noticed. "You're the best I've got, lieutenant," he says, eyes meeting his. "Don't abandon me now."  
  
Two hours later, the coffee lies cold and forgotten; Kaidan is fighting trolls, John - because he can't think of him as  _Shepard_  now they've played  _DragoonStar_  together - loudly urging him to go for the neck.  
  


+

 

Garrus' mandibles twitch in the equivalent of a grin, and he glances at Shepard as he straps away his rifle; several Collectors lie scattered on the ground, heads blown precisely and quickly open. John is crouched behind a bunch of crates, still breathing heavily, holding his own shotgun, eyes several miles away.

Not that they talk about this kind of stuff much, but, Spirits damn him, he has to ask. "Who is she?" 

John almost - but not  _quite_  - hides it when he jumps, looking at Garrus in surprise. "Wha?"

Garrus just stands, waiting for an explanation. "You've barely been able to shoot straight since we got here."

John swallows, stands, putting away the shotgun, looking out over the horizon. "I don't..." His voice is quiet, unlike his usual tones. "Kaidan," he replies, eventually. "It's Kaidan."

He turns, walking past Garrus before he can make any reply.


	14. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen. M!Shepard with some Miri thrown in.

It wakes slowly, blurriness slowly coming into focus.  
  
It _is_. And _it_ is not _it_ , it is _him._ He knows this now, remembers.  
  
Things begin to flow back - a last bright light, an explosion of heat and pain; hands on his skin and a voice in his ear, telling him to _wake up_...  
  
 _Shepard_ , he remembers. His name, he can feel its familiarity.  
  
He coughs, the sound deep and rough, and tries his voice. "I..." It has the pain of a throat unused for a long time, but he succeeds.  
  
There's another name in his head, one he knows nearly as well as his own, and it pulses in time with his heart in his mind. He connects it, slowly and haltingly, with the memory of the hands and the voice.  
  
 _His_ , his mind tells him. _And theirs._ He is theirs.  
  
And John Shepard rises, knowing his name, and the muscle memory comes back. He reaches for a gun, the motion automatic and excruciatingly painful, but looks up at a voice. "You won't find one."  
  
It's familiar, and the name rises in his mind and to his lips. "M - ?"  
  
"Hello, Shepard," she says, and he can _hear_ the smile in her voice. "Been a while, hasn't it?"  
  
His hand, still outstretched for the gun, falls on something flatter, and with years of practice, he raises the datapad to his eyes. X-rays. Scans. Something... else...  
  
He touches a finger to the pad, and there's a small _beep.  
  
ID: Captain John Shepard. Subject identification complete._   
  
_Captain?_ he wonders, but his eyes are drawn to the next line of text.  
  
 _Lazarus Project v2: status: **complete.**_  
  
As his shaking hands drop the datapad, he hears Miranda say, her voice still warm even in the sterility of the lab room, "Welcome back, John."


	15. Without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker/EDI, Kaidan/Shepard, and a side of Kaidan/Joker bromance. A take on the Destroy ending.

__It's been six days, three hours and seven minutes since that metal shell went cold and still.  
  
He tries not to look at it too much. Hurts like hell otherwise.   
  
He doesn't know whether there's any hope the ship can be repaired; even if it can, even if they make the slow crawl back to Alliance space, they won't let her...  
  
Shit. What's the point, anyway? It all just stays the same. He heaves out a sigh, makes himself stop thinking about it.  
  
 ****

 

Kaidan finds it first, when the whole crew start turning over the ship, looking for some clue they know they won't find - something on how to repair the ship maybe, or some last message of Shepard's telling them it's all going to be OK...  
  
The beer's been left in the refrigerator in the mess hall, but the fridge doesn't even work now, so they might as well...  
  
Maybe it was for a victory celebration. Maybe it was for one last drink if it all went to hell. He doesn't know. Doesn't think it matters.  
  
They know perfectly well the beer'll keep. But they pretend, just for a night, when the two of them sit in the cockpit and drink, and talk shit like nothing's changed. Just like old times, except for the sound of the wind in the palm trees outside and the persistent aches in both their hearts.  
  
Kaidan - good ol' always in control, bring-him-home-to-your-parents-and-they'll-compliment-you-on-finding-such-a- _nice_ -boy Kaidan - gets ridiculously smashed, the first time he's ever seen him like that. He falls onto his shoulder, starts sobbing nearly silently, heaving, and Joker pretends not to notice. He just sits silently, listens to the palm trees.

He knows, if they ever make it back, that it'll be in a patched-together ship that will only just get them there; there's no way they can repair her completely. And he knows, somewhere, that the ship he nearly died for...

Is just a ship. And it's empty.

And she's gone.

He runs a hand over the console, light enough not to press anything, and _listens_ , hard.

But all he hears is the hum of engines.


End file.
